


Fire Meet Gasoline

by Catherine_Nightingale



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Bad Spanish, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Love Bites, M/M, Massage, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Moral Ambiguity, Neck Kissing, Partners to Lovers, Smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-01-30 18:37:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12659130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catherine_Nightingale/pseuds/Catherine_Nightingale
Summary: A collection of short Steve/Javi drabbles.Tags will be added with new chapters





	1. La vista

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Javi sees Steve and himself

Steve’s eyes are crystal blue, and his hair is almost white, bleached under the Colombian sun. In short moments of rest they get, Javi loves to watch him, lying spread out on the car hood, bathing in the sun, letting it hit his fair, freckled skin. He looks so fucking cherubic, pure and untouched by the filth of this world, and Javi can only regret, that Colombia will break him.  
  
It didn’t break Javi only because there was nothing to break. He spent too much time in this hell pit, and he knows that there is no right choice when you have two shitty ones. Pick one that benefits your cause more, and let this thought help you sleep at night. Though, it is not working on Javi lately.  
  
If Steve is an angel, Javi thinks one day (they are on a stakeout, and Steve is fast asleep in his seat, with a little frown on his forehead), then Javi himself must be a demon. Sometimes, when he looks in the mirror, his own eyes seem alien to him, and his tan skin feels as if it is charred. Maybe, he’s too far gone at this point.  
  
"Javi," Steve says, cracking one eye open. "I can practically feel your stare."  
  
"Just admiring the view," Javi says, without missing a bit, because it’s the truth. "You are the prettiest blond around these parts."  
  
Steve tries to stare him down for a few moments, but then throws his head back and laughs, and Javi laughs with him. He may be a goner, but as long as Steve’s eyes are crystal clear, and his laughter is heartfelt, Javi knows what he is fighting for.  
  
Angels have no place in a hell like this.  
  



	2. Tuyo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Javi was working for too long, and his shoulders are stiff...

There's no one in the office, except for him and Steve, and Javi doesn't bite back a moan, leaning back in his low chair. Ignoring his partner’s intense stare, Peña starts to slowly rub circles into the stiff muscles of his neck and shoulders, trying to ease the tension that took residence there due to unending hours of work on the typewriter.

“ _Puta_ …” he moans, closing his eyes when his fingers hit the knot of pain.

“Yeah, I definitely have one in front of me right now,” Steve quips suddenly with a smirk.

Javi makes a rude gesture with his free hand, digging his fingers into the pain knot. The motion feels fairly masochistic, but Javi is too tired to care.

Caught up in tending to his shoulder, he misses the moment when Steve gets up with a slight creak of the chair. Thus, two hands descending on his shoulders take Javi totally unaware, and he stills, wary, fighting an urge to bring his shoulder blades together. He's not used to be this vulnerable, and can't seem to stop thinking that, should the idea come to his head, Murphy could easily snap his neck.

“Steve?” He asks cautiously, unable to suppress a shiver running down his spine, and his partner notices it.

“Relax, Javi,” Steve says nonchalantly as if his hand isn't covering his partner’s as if it's not his fingers rub gently and soothingly into Javier’s shoulders. “Put your hand down. You are only gonna make it worse.”

“As if you know how to do it right,” Javi bites back out of habit, but obediently drops his hand.

“’Course I do,” Steve replies with his usual cockiness and suddenly stops, watching Javi intensely. “Or maybe you want me to leave you alone with your pain?”

Javi knows Steve long enough to recognize the real question.

‘Do you trust me?’

Javi remembers. Remembers a smirk, sick and sharp, alien on Steve’s face, remembers being slammed into the wall in the embassy by him, looking like he’s gonna strangle Javi there and then. Remembers their drunk, sloppy kiss that felt more like a bite, after Javi brought him home from the precinct. Remembers wild blue eyes, full of fire and unspoken anger.

‘Do you trust me?’

Javi exhales slowly and leans forward a bit, giving Steve more access to his back.

“Do your magic, Murphy,” he grumbles.

“Sure going to,” Steve says smugly and then his fingers dig hard into Javi’s muscles, and Peña has to bite his lip, to stop a loud and obscene moan from escaping. “Such interesting noises you make, Javi. I think I could play you like a fucking violin”.

“Fuck you,” Javi bites out, but only halfheartedly, because pain subsidies and his muscles start to hum under the nimble fingers, and he relaxes, unconsciously leaning back, pushing into his partner’s hands.

“You’ll be the one fucking?” Steve laughs in his ear, warm breath ghosting over the shell, and Javi shudders.

The following almost non-playful bite elicits a gasp from Javier, effectively blocking any possible answer.

“Talk to me, Javi,” Steve demands, his capable hands never stopping their work on Javier's muscles, sending waves of heat and pleasure through his body.

“Steve…” is all Javi's able to get out before soft, dry lips touch his neck and he loses his barely shaped thought to the wave of desire and need.

Steve trails kisses down his neck and bites hard and animalistic just under the shirt collar, and suddenly Javi is out of breath, gasping for air, like a dying man.

Steve’s fingers trail up Javi's neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and tread through his dark hair, and then fist in them and tug, making Javi throw his head back and look Steve in the eyes.

Steve is flushed, and his eyes are wild, he descends on Javi with a hard, biting kiss, like he wants to mark him and make Javi forever his. Javi moans into the kiss, unable to resist the sharp pang of arousal hitting him.

“ _Puta_ ,” Steve tuts mockingly, letting go of his lips and Javi can't help but smirk.

“ _Tu puta_ ,” he elaborates. Even Steve’s poor Spanish should be enough for this.


	3. Estamos vivos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Javi is back to Colombia after Escobar's death  
> OR  
> How S3 really should have started

Javi feels a strange sort of relief upon returning to his old apartment in Medellin. Nothing's changed since the last time he was here, except…

Javi looks at the staircase leading up, and wonders if Steve’s home. They haven't talked since that phone call about Escobar’s demise, both too caught up in dealing with the fallout of that long hunt.

He should go and check up on him, Javi decides and touches the doorknob.

And the door suddenly creaks open.

Javi freezes in the doorway and, putting his duffle bag down, takes out the gun. A fleeting regretful thought passes through his mind – he had hoped to not use the gun at least for the first 24 hours. Well, tough luck. 

Javi cautiously enters the apartment. Outside, the day slowly dies, and the rooms are only dimly lit, but Javi still manages to recognize Steve’s tall dark frame, standing in the middle of his living room. 

“Goddammit, Murphy,” Javi breathes out, equal parts exasperated and relieved, putting the gun down. “I almost shot you, you little shit. How did you even get here?”

Steve is silent, and Javi takes a long look at his face. It’s calm, but eerily so, and a little bit stony-looking, almost like it's petrified. He is not moving, and for a moment an absolutely crazy thought pops up in Javi’s head, that their peace was just a temporary measure, and now, since all that Pablo shit is over, Steve wouldn't want to have any ties with him.

“Javi,” Steve breathes out and, crossing the room in a few long strides, almost collapses on his partner, hugging him. “You're back.”

“’Course I’m back,” Javi replies, barely managing to catch Steve, before he collapses for real. Steve feels stiff in his arms, wound like a spring. “There's still enough work here.”

You're here, he wants to add but doesn't. No. That would be selfish.

“Javi,” Steve mutters against his shoulder. “Javi, he's dead.”

For a short, dreadful moment all Javi can think of is the list of people that could have died while he was away. Trujillo? Martinez? Martinez Jr.?  
But then he realizes – Steve is talking about Escobar. 

It suddenly hits Javi like a freight train. Escobar's dead. For sure, he's never coming back. Medellin cartel is gone. The war is over. 

Escobar's dead – and they are alive. They got through it all – blood, gore, sweat, heat, and death lurking around every corner – and they are alive.

Javi hugs Steve tighter and presses his cheek to the partner’s temple.

 _“Si,”_ he says softly, more for himself than for Steve, who is slowly and gradually relaxing in his hold. _“Estamos vivos.”_

The moment he says it out loud, Javi feels a lump forming in his throat. His eyes start to burn, almost unbearable, and he closes them, lightly pressing his lips to Steve's blond hair.

“Javi?” Steve freezes for a moment and then tries to lift his head off his partner’s shoulder. “Are you crying?”

Javi doesn't answer. He can't, he literally has no voice, so he just continues to hold Steve tightly and feels how, for the first time in almost fifteen years, tears roll down his cheeks.

 _“Claro que no,”_ he says, at last, regaining his voice. _“Estás imaginando cosas.”_

“No idea what that means,” Steve confesses after a brief pause, and Javi scoffs.

“You’ve spent so many years here, and couldn't find the time to learn a few words, _gringo_?” he teases, loosening his hold a little so that Steve can pull away if he wants.

But Steve doesn't pull away. Instead, he straightens up and gets both his hands around Javi's middle.

 _“Bienvenido a casa, Javi,”_ he says, articulating carefully and, pulling Javi closer, smirks at him. “See, I know a thing or two after all”.

Javi laughs at this and puts his hand on the back of Steve's head. 

_“Bastardo descarado,”_ he mutters affectionately. _“¿Por qué te amo?”_

And, before Steve can answer in any way, Javi kisses him, throwing caution to the wind.

After all, they're both alive. And they’ll have their time to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations!  
> (I don't know Spanish, so I'm really sorry if something is off)
> 
> 1\. Si, Estamos vivos - Yes, We are alive.  
> 2\. Claro que no - Of course not.  
> 3\. Estás imaginando cosas - You're imagining things.  
> 4\. Bienvenido a casa, Javi - Welcome home, Javi.  
> 5\. Bastardo descarado - Cheeky bastard.  
> 6\. ¿Por qué te amo? - Why do I (even) love you?


	4. Los tres besos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just three times our boys kiss  
> or  
> The one, where Steve internalizes, Javi is too righteous for his own good, but it still works out.

**_1._ **

The first time it happens when Javi is trying to drag Steve up the stairs, leading to his apartment. They are both drunk, but if Javi can still more or less handle himself, Steve's so done, Javi couldn't even let him take the stairs alone. Would be really sad if Steve broke his neck before they catch Pablo, wouldn't it?

They stop in front of the door and Javi makes a move to knock, when Steve catches him from behind and almost hangs on his shoulders.

“Ja-avi-i,” he drawls, nuzzling his partner's neck. “Ja-avi, u’r ma bessst frie-end…”

“’Course I’m your friend,” mutters Javi. To his drunken brain, the hug doesn't seem inappropriate, and he allows Steve to draw him closer. “No one in their right mind would be, but, luckily for you, I guess I’m just insane enough”.

“Ri-ight,” Steve breathes out, the gust of warm air tickling Javi's neck.

Suddenly, Steve leans forward, dragging the tip of his nose up Javi's neck, and kisses his cheek. Javi practically freezes in place, drunken haze in his mind gone instantly. 

Steve untangles himself from him, and, swaying a bit, gets to the door and starts fumbling with the key. When the lock finally opens, he turns back to his stunned partner.

“Tha…” He starts and then yawns broadly, and Javi is suddenly reminded of how wild cats yawn, showing all of their impressive sharp teeth. “…anks for getting me home, Javi. Good ni-ight.”

He yawns again in the middle of the word, and Javi can only watch as if entranced, how Steve throws his head back, and, catching himself doing this, hastily looks away.

 _“Buenas noches,”_ he says, starting to get down the stairs, and, hearing the door click shut, adds under his breath. _“Gato.”_

Getting to his door, Javi absentmindedly touches his cheek and decides not to dwell on what happened.

After all, they're both drunk.

 

**_2._ **

Second time really shouldn't have been a surprise for Javi. He just brought Steve home from the precinct, and Steve is still drunk, angry at the world and himself, and adrenalin-high, and that is a dangerous mix, ready to blow anytime. 

“Sober up, get some sleep, take a shower,” Javi states evenly, hoping that this kind of pacing will calm Steve down a bit. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Steve doesn't seem to listen. He's slowly rotating the lighter in his fingers, gaze wandering around the room.

“You know what's the most fucked up about all this, Javi?” He suddenly spits out, and Peña, already halfway to the door, falters in his steps. “I’m so fucking glad she left.”

To say that it’s the last thing Javi expected to hear would be a huge understatement. He is so out of words that he just stares at Steve, waiting for the continuation, and Steve jumps out of the chair.

“I’m so fucking glad she left, ‘cause now I don't have to worry ‘bout her getting killed. I don’t need to worry ‘bout our daughter getting killed. Or that someone will use them against me. Or that one day someone might tail after me here,” Steve almost growls, getting closer to Javi, and he backs away until his middle hits the low table. Steve almost crowds him, and his blue eyes are shining. “And she… She doesn't have to deal with me.”

That last thing Murphy utters sounds so full of self-hatred, that Javi can't help himself. He almost automatically grabs Steve by the arm and brings him into an awkward half-hug, trying to comfort him a bit.

Steve seemingly only then notices, how close he is standing to Javi, and, sighing, hugs him by the shoulders. 

“Good thing I have you, Javi,” he says slowly and smirks. “Insane fucking enough to be my friend.”

The phrase seems familiar, but before Javi can remember, where or when he could have heard it, Steve grabs him by the collar and presses their noses together for some reason. 

His face becomes so confused, Javi can't help but chuckle.

“You alright there, Murphy?” He asks, looking at Steve seriously creasing his brow as if trying to understand what's wrong.

“Almost got it,” Steve mumbles, not easing his grip on his partner's collar.

“Got what?” Javi asks with a little smirk. “Goddamit, Steve, you're dru...”

He doesn't get a chance to finish, because Steve mashes their lips together, and the world around Javi explodes. Steve doesn't kiss him, he bites, not hard enough to draw blood, but still rough and possessive, subjugating him, and Javi unconsciously leans into the kiss.

It seems like a little eternity passes, before Steve pulls away, not really tenderly biting his lower lip in the end. 

“Got this,” Steve drawls slowly, his gaze burning into his partner, and Javi realizes that, if he wants to keep his mind clear (well, mostly clear) he needs to get out this instant.

“I have to get back to work,” he says, awkwardly straightening his collar, that’s strangling him for some reason. “We’ll talk later”.

Steve gives him a long look and nods, getting back to the chair and falling into it, as if the strings, that held him upright, were cut. Javi tries not to look back at him when he leaves the apartment.

 

Javi considers not visiting Steve in the evening, but the worry for his partner takes the best of him, and Javi comes up the stairs to Murphy’s apartment.

Steve is still in that same chair, this time – asleep. He is dressed in his home clothes, and his hair is damp from the shower. Javi comes closer and stills for a few moments, before gently brushing a few strands of blond hair from Steve’s forehead.

Sleeping, Steve looks very calm and so, so young. Javi absently thinks that this must be how he looked before Colombia. Unable to stop himself, Javi pets Steve's hair once again, and he smiles in his sleep.

Must be dreaming of Connie, Javi thinks, and leaves, trying to ignore the sharp pang of envy stinging his chest.

His lips still feel a bit raw. 

 

**_3._ **

They say, third time is a charm, but there's nothing charming about the situation.

Carrillo is dead, and, after the funeral, Javi goes to his home, instead of their makeshift dorm. There, in the darkness, brightened a little bit by the street lamp, he chain-smokes through the night, not really caring about overflowing ashtray. He doesn't even drink – pulls out the bottle of whiskey at first, takes a swig and doesn't touch it afterwards.

Javi just looks at the darkness and tries not to think.

Someone knocks at the door, soft but sure, and Javi tries to ignore the sound. 

“Javi,” he hears Steve's voice. “Open the door, Javi, I know you're here.”

Steve. Of course, who else?

Javi slowly gets up and moves to open the door. 

“How are you?” Steve asks earnestly, even if a bit awkwardly, crossing the threshold, and Javi shrugs, going back to the sofa. Steve follows him, shrugging the jacket off and throwing it somewhere. He then manages to undo his tie and drops on the sofa beside his partner. 

For a while they just sit there, knees brushing, and Javi gradually stops feeling like he's being skinned alive. 

“I'm sorry,” Steve finally says, turning to Javi.

“I know,” he says, out of place, and, because apparently, he shouldn't have been drinking at all today, adds, not meeting Steve's eyes. “Now I'm just glad that it wasn't you there.”

His words are met with silence and Javi wonders if he said too much.

And then Steve takes him carefully by the chin, turning his head, and kisses him, surprisingly soft and gentle, free hand tangling in his hair.

Javi's eyes go wide in surprise, but he responds to the kiss, because there's nothing holding him back; because he wanted this so badly, but never felt like he was allowed; because Carrillo’s death just cemented that every day might as well be their last, and there's no point in waiting anymore. 

They pull away from each other, panting, like teenagers. Steve pulls Javi to himself by the shirt collar, until their foreheads touch and Javi closes his eyes.

“Don't you dare to die on me, Javi,” Steve says tiredly. “Don't you dare.”

“Same goes to you,” Javi replies hoarsely, eyes still shut. He doesn't want to think about the consequences of tonight, about their twisted relationship, about what he is about to do. The only thing that matters now, is his dimly lit living room and Steve – living, breathing, so beautifully real – close to him.

Steve chuckles softly and tiredly into his lips, and kisses Javi again, moving his hand to the back of Javi's head and guides him to his shoulder. Javi obediently nuzzles his collarbone, relaxing.

_“Te amo,”_ he mumbles under his breath, hoping he wouldn't be heard or understood. 

_“Te amo también,”_ Steve exhales into his hair, without missing a bit, and for some reason, in the darkness of the living room, these words don't sound inappropriate for Javi. 

He can think about the morning later. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations!
> 
> 1\. Los tres besos - the three kisses  
> 2\. Buenas noches - good night  
> 3\. Gato - cat  
> 4\. Te amo (tambien) - I love you (too).
> 
> This chapter was inspired by [this](http://gattobamboom.tumblr.com/post/167609294038/%D1%85%D0%B5%D0%BB%D0%BB%D0%BE%D1%83-%D0%BD%D0%BE%D0%B2%D1%8B%D0%B9-%D0%BE%D1%82%D0%BF) artwork


	5. La chispa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Javi lost his lighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first chapter I wrote from Steve's perspective

“Still with me, Murphy?”

Steve emerges from his thoughts and turns to Javi, who looks at him inquiringly. 

“Huh?” he manages, unintelligently, absentmindedly rubbing his knuckles against his cheek. They both are awake for, like, at least forty hours, and all thoughts in Steve’s head fell jumbled and move very, very slowly and reluctantly. He needs either a coffee or a good twelve-hour sleep, and he is getting none of this things for the time being. 

“I asked if you’ve got a light,” Javi says and shows Steve the cigarette he holds between his fingers, moving closer. “Lost mine somewhere and I don’t carry matches around for god knows how long…”

“Sure,” Steve nods and pulls a lighter out of his pocket, stepping towards Javi, trying to ignore the full-body tension and the dull muscle pain that seems to get worse at his every move. He envies his partner a bit, mainly his ability to carry himself like there weren’t the long hours of pointless raid behind them, and they are not stranded hell knows where for devil knows how long. 

_“Gracias,”_ Peña perches the cigarette between his teeth, lowers the sunglasses he forgot to take off, looking at Steve over them and gives him a tired, exhausted smile.

And maybe Steve is just too tired, and that’s why his brain tries to focus on some tiny detail for a long time, but he can’t tear his gaze away from Javi’s face, can’t stop himself from noticing how the corners of his partner’s dark eyes crinkle when he smiles. Javi bends a little, lowering his head, cups his hand above the cigarette and Steve hits the wheel, creating a spark. The little flame basks Javi’s face in its warm orange light, reflects in his sunglasses, dances, forcing shadows to move over his swarthy face, making Javi look almost ethereal, otherworldly. Colombia stretches around them, as unquiet at night as on midday, the air humid and hot even at this late hour, and it’s stuffy, like before a thunderstorm, but for Steve, the world narrows to a warm orange light in his hands and Javi basking in it. 

Peña, as if hearing Steve’s thoughts, raises his head and smiles again, and that smile is so pure and sincere it makes Steve’s chest feel funny. He tries to breathe deep and fails.

 _“Agárrese, Steve,”_ Javi suddenly says, softly but surely, and just a bit indistinctly because of the cigarette perched between his lips, and, as always, Spanish coming from him makes Steve relax a bit, and he lowers his shoulders with a soft sigh. “Just a couple more hours and we can go home.”

Javi briefly wraps his warm fingers around Steve’s wrists and lets them go, taking the first puff. A gust of wind ruffles his hair, and Steve promptly stomps the absolutely improper want to brush a few damp dark strands from Javi’s forehead. The tension that almost completely bled out a few moments ago, returns in full force, making Steve ball his hands into fists and grit his teeth. 

Javi, noticing this, sighs and offers Steve the cigarette, which he gratefully takes, eager to use anything, to keep his hands busy, to not give in to the temptation to touch his partner.

 _“Tranquilo, amigo,”_ Javi says softly, while Steve smokes, and wraps a hand around his shoulders, almost making Steve jump, before he gives in and sags into the hug. _“Pronto todo va a cambiar.”_

And Steve believes him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations!  
> (Keep in mind - I still suck at Spanish)
> 
> 1\. La chispa - The spark  
> 2\. Gracias - Thank you  
> 3\. Agárrese, Steve - Hold on, Steve  
> 4\. Tranquilo, amigo - Calm down, buddy  
> 5\. Pronto todo via a cambiar - Soon everything will change
> 
> The chapter was inspired by [this](http://gattobamboom.tumblr.com/post/167926177113) artwork


	6. Masaje del cuero cabelludo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Javi is stuck with a load of paperwork.

Javi didn’t plan to work that long. He really didn’t, but they had another wild goose chase that lasted for a fucking week, and the paperwork just piled up while they were gone, and he wanted to deal with it as fast as he could.

That’s how Javi ends up sitting hunched over his deck in their shared room, working through document after document, trying to pay as little attention as he can to the familiar pain slowly creeping up his forehead or to soreness of his eyes. Best he ignores them as long as he can.

And he needs more coffee. Or, which would be better, some bloody sleep.

Signing and putting away another paper, Javi notices movement behind him, but, before he can do anything sans straighten up, someone loosely hugs him over the shoulders, sliding two warm hands down his chest.

“Sorry, I’m late,” murmurs Steve into his ear, placing a fleeting kiss on it as well. “You still onto this bullshit?”

“Someone has to,” says Javi, almost wincing at the hoarseness of his own voice, and asks, clearing his throat. “Any luck on your side?”

“Martinez is a bitch, so no. Don’t wanna talk about him,” his partner almost whines childishly, lowering his head, and Javi barely stops himself from squirming, because Steve’s stubbled chin grazes his neck and it bloody tickles.

Steve chuckles, letting Peña know that he noticed it anyway, and starts deliberately scratching Javi’s neck with his chin until his partner gives in to the urge to get away, though he doesn’t get far, as Murphy’s hands hold him down.

“Steve, stop it, or I’ll punch you in the face, I swear,” he bites out, though his own hands move to lay over his partner’s.

“No, you won’t,” Steve laughs quietly and kisses his neck, right into the sensitive, previously scratched spot, biting down ever so gently, and this is enough to send a full-blown shiver down Javi’s spine and make him choke on a pitiful whine. “Come on, Javi, _mi amor,_ let’s go to bed”.

“I have to finish those first,” Javi says, pointing at the papers with his chin. This simple motion suddenly sends a jolt of pain through his forehead, so strong and unexpected, it startles a pained grunt from him. 

Steve behind him goes perfectly still and then straightens up. 

“You're having one of those headaches again, aren't you?” he asks so bloody seriously like it’s something life-threatening, and Javi almost laughs at this. He doesn’t because it will make the pain worse.

“And what if I do, Steve, it’s not the worst thing there is, for fuck's sake,” he answers nonchalantly. “Besides, I’m getting old, I’m entitled to have some sort of malfunction somewhere”.

Murphy audibly breathes out, tightening hands on his partner’s chest, and Javi starts stroking them slowly, trying to calm him down. Steve gets so worked up about his health all the time, one has to wonder where all his mother-henning comes from.

Though, being cared for? Not an unwelcome thing.

“You are not old,” finally chuckles Steve and moves his hands, gently prying them from Javi’s. “Now sit still and let me take care of you”.

Javi wonders what he means until both Steve’s hands slide up the back of his neck and for a moment his thought process almost shuts down completely. He arches into the touch, exhaling sharply when Steve’s fingers start treading through his hair. His whole body tenses with anticipation, but his partner takes his sweet time petting his hair, and Javi squirms, impatient.

“Steve, get on with it,” he manages, trying not to sound pleading.

“Be a good boy, say please,” Murphy teases lightly and Javi is about to tell him to go fuck himself when Steve’s rough fingertips finally start massaging his scalp and all, that comes out of Peña’s mouth is a pathetically sounding moan. 

Steve knows how to play him like an instrument, like some sort of a fucking violin, his hands move in perfect sync, and it feels so heavenly good, that Javi closes his eyes and arches into the touch, whining. The tension bleeds out of his head, driven out by long skilled fingers, and Peña barely notices that it’s gone, lost in his pleasure.

 _“No te detengas, Steve, por favor,”_ Javi whines, barely registering the sounds coming out of his mouth, but his lover doesn’t even slow down, alternating the pressure of his hands, switching between broad strokes and small circular motions, between massaging and scratching lightly, and Javi’s breath catches in his throat at the whirlwind of sensation. _“Tan bueno, Steve, no te detengas, por favor…”_

“If I didn’t know better,” Steve suddenly chuckles lightly into his ear. “I’d say you are enjoying this way too much. Well, some parts of you do.” 

Javi snaps out of his blessed state and looks down at the strained fly of his jeans, realizing that he is getting more and more aroused by the moment, and turns his head a bit, collecting all that remains of his wits to just smirk at Steve.

“Whatcha gonna do about it?” Javi drawls and even manages to sound sly. 

Steve deliberately roughly scratches his lover’s scalp one last time and drops his hands to Javi’s shoulders.

“Come to bed with me,” he breathes into Javi's ear, making him shudder. “And I’ll show you.”

And Javi obeys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations!
> 
> 1\. Masaje del cuero cabelludo - Scalp massage.  
> 2\. Mi amor - My love.  
> 3\. No te detengas, Steve, por favor - Don't stop, Steve, please.  
> 4\. Tan bueno - So good.


	7. El trato justo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's not allowed to smoke for some time.

Steve looks at Javi’s lips with a strange, almost longing look, and Javier can't help but hunch his shoulders, uncomfortable under the intense gaze.  
He knows, though, that it’s not about him, per se - the thing is that Javi has just lit up a cigarette. 

“I’d offer you one, but you know you can’t smoke yet,” he tells Steve, after the first drag, and the man just rolls his eyes in response. “Murphy, this is fucking serious, your lungs are still healing…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know” Steve waves his hand with a dismissive shrug and Javi has to really curb a sudden urge to cuff his ears.

“Then quit looking at me like you wanna bite that cig off me” Javier grumbles, bringing the cigarette back to his lips. 

The next thing Javi knows is that there are long, pale fingers so fucking close to his mouth, dragging the cig out of his grasp and Steve’s body almost pressed against his.

“Hey!” Javi manages to bite out, but Steve only smirks and quickly brings the cigarette to his lips.

“Swe-et,” he drawls after the first drag, exhaling the smoke. “How I missed it…”

“Give that to me, you little fucking gringo disaster,” Javi makes an attempt to snatch the cigarette back, but to no avail, as Steve stretches is arm out of Javier’s reach, smirking. “Why are you such a child?”

“Why are you so old?” Steve remarks with a laugh, and Javi elbows him in the ribs, light enough that Murphy only winces, but doesn’t lower his outstretched hand. “We can trade, if you want, though.”

“Trade?” Javi’s eyebrows shoot up. “For what, exactly?”

Steve takes a quick, messy drag, and outstretches his hand again, with a mockingly puzzled look on his face.

“We-ell,” he drawls with a huge shit-eating grin and taps the index finger of his free hand on the lips. “I dunno, something to occupy my mouth that’s not a cigarette, I guess.”

“ _Huevón,_ ” Javi rolls his eyes and, after a quick look around, to make sure no one is watching, steps even closer to Steve, aligning their bodies, and, grabbing him by the collar, drags him down for a kiss. Steve hums contentedly into his mouth and kisses back with ferocity, wrapping his free hand around Peña’s middle. 

Javi bites him on the lower lip, hard enough to draw blood, and Murphy yelps, breaking the kiss.

“Javi, you jerkass!” he huffs out, half-heartedly. “What was that for?!”

“You wanted something to occupy your mouth with,” Peña shrugs and lets go of Steve’s collar. “That’ll serve you well. Now, give me that cigarette back.”

“Fair enough,” Steve sighs, licking his lips, and obliges. Their hands meet halfway, and, as soon as Javi brings the cigarette back to his lips, their fingers end up interlaced. “Still, that hurt like a bitch.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Javi promises offhandedly, and Steve smirks, tightening his arm on partner’s middle, bringing Peña closer.

“I’ll hold you up to that,” he laughs. “Fair’s fair after all.”


End file.
